@seavillain​ asked;  “Is that the best you can do?” (for uhtred!)

TRAINING TURNED TENSION STARTERS // NOT ACCEPTING

Storm clouds gathered low and tight on the horizon are enough to delay their travel; the roiling dark mass is moving quickly against the grey sky, indistinct haze of rain scouring the landscape below it. They would fare poorly in the road under its lashing strength, and so they stay where they can wait it out, tension and impatience growing and breeding among their men like algae in a still lake.

Uhtred goads them to action, to burn out their frustration; he will not sit and watch them fall to squabbling and bitterness when he intends to travel swiftly and with purpose once the storm has passed. He will not waste time corralling them like stubborn cattle. 

And so he lets them fight, pouring everything pent-up into their sword arms and their jeers and shouts, into wagers they do not have the money to make good on. He steps up when he is challenged, swinging his sword up to rest atop his shield as he circles one of Jacob’s men who fights with swords but no shield.

The man is frustrated and perhaps a little drunk, and both of these things make him sloppy. With each blow that Uhtred deflects, with each passing moment that Uhtred does not strike back, the man’s irritation grows. His attacks become more reckless, sloppier, until eventually when he throws himself forward, Uhtred neatly sidesteps him and smacks the flat of his sword against the back of the man’s knees, sending him sprawling.

The ragged knots of men crowding about cheer and laugh.

“Is that the best you can do?”

Jacob’s voice cuts through the noise of his men, his voice low and steady and a little disdainful. Uhtred turns to find him not far off, arms folded as he watches the spectacle.

“It is as much as I have to do,” Uhtred shrugs. “There is no point working to win a fight when I may simply wait for the other man to lose it.” Behind him, the man has staggered to his feet and been pulled away by friends who clap hands on his shoulders, mock and console him with the same breath.

“Then perhaps you are in need of a better opponent.”

Uhtred watches Jacob for a moment before he tips his head in acquiescence, stepping back with a wide gesture of his sword arm. Jacob draws his sword, but waves away a shield that is proffered to him. When he stalks into the makeshift square they have made, it is with a dangerous grace that Uhtred has not seen him wear before. He hesitates, but does not cast aside his own shield.

Instead, he drops his stance and lifts his shield, rests his sword atop it.

He watches Jacob’s face, not his blade. Jacob stalks in a half circle, body poised and ready, a sharp edge of danger laced through every movement. Moment by moment, Uhtred feels a tension build in his bones, the men surrounding them falling quiet.

The move, when it comes, is whip-fast.

Jacob lashes out and Uhtred manages to deflect the blow, twisting his shield and swinging his sword around to parry the next, lunging strike. Jacob is not like last opponent; he is focused and he is dangerous, and he is reading Uhtred just as well as Uhtred is reading him.

They fall back for a moment, circling. Each wary of the other.

Uhtred spins, sudden and without warning, feet crossing over themselves like the steps of a dance, sword flicking out once, twice, three times. But Jacob was watching and waiting, saw the intention in his eyes a second before his feet moved, and meets each blow with his own sword, metal ringing out against metal.

The melee turns into a flurry, Jacob relying on shield and precision, making the most of his freedom of movement in the absence of a shield. Uhtred relies on force and fury, driving himself forward to drive Jacob back. He can barely hear the sound of the men around them, too focused on the ring of sword against sword and the song of his blood in his ears.

Jacob turns, unexpected, spins in close and manages to press his weight against the inside of Uhtred’s shield, pushing against it until Uhtred must let it go or let his arm break. He stumbles a few steps backwards, fist clenching and unclenching against the ache in his forearm. Jacob smirks, ever so slightly, tips his head. Uhtred grins, a sharpness between his teeth. Drops down again, knees bent and ready, Serpent Breath swinging in his grip before she settles.

the departed starters.

          daniel purses his lips at his reflection in the mirror, pleased by jacob’s vulgarity but displeased at how it makes the servant at the back wall lift her eyebrows. ah, so she understands them after all. he should have known better than to take her floran pleas as truth. anyone in floraison who claims to not understand you is always lying through their yellow teeth, secretly listening, waiting to report your secrets dutifully to whatever enemy has paid them to do so. daniel whips around, snaps his fingers sharply at the girl and watches her eyes widen in shock.

       “ boudin! ferme ta gueule, ” he barks at her, eyes flamed. she dips her head, face aflame with shame. daniel doesn’t let up. “ get out of here, before i have you thrown into the pits for your treachery. ” she hesitates, glancing jacob’s way, mouth open as if to plead with him. daniel looks between them, has to hold back his spiteful laughter. “ you think the bregomearckin prince will not know better than to help you? after you have lied to him as well as your goddess-prince? no doubt to share his secrets and dishonor him. i said OUT! ” it doesn’t take anymore than that. the door shuts behind her as she flurries away, tears running down her face. 

    daniel might pity her if he didn’t know any better. it’s only lucky jacob didn’t say anything worse, or else suffer the ruin of gossip before even being properly introduced to court. he sighs, pinches the skin above his nose in annoyance. it’s only soothed when he looks up at jacob, sitting on the bed without having even taken of his boots, hair undone. ill-mannered fool, yet daniel’s heart beats harder in his chest. looking at jacob is like running a mile in the rain, and it doesn’t help that jacob is in daniel’s terrain now, perfectly claimed; his floraison bed, surrounded by floraison patterns, by daniel’s belongings—the candles on his bedside table, the tapestries on the wall. he wishes he could keep jacob like this forever, hang a painting of this moment and summon this feeling of warmth everytime he looks at it.

crooked kingdom starters / continued from here

    “ fool. i should toss you back out into the street. ” the words are cutting but the heart isn’t in it. daniel shudders a breath, leans his head against jacob’s thigh to collect himself. when a staff member had burst into the bedroom, he’d expected the worst—seeing jacob whole and alive, with only a damaged shoulder, is a relief that brings him to his knees beside the chair. he thanks god both for this and for the fact that he hires only discreet workers, ones who know that when there is a visitor in the night, they ought to make themselves scarce. 

     “ you should have gone to a medic. or to your wife. and you damaged my door. ” all of this is pointless complaints, really, but daniel can’t help to make a fuss to jacob, who seems to bring it out in him. perhaps it’s the knowledge that his complaints don’t drive the lord hawke away. and despite it all, he is glad that jacob has brought his troubles to daniel above others. he dips the cloth back into the water, squeezing the water out before dabbing it once more against jacob’s forehead. his fingers run with the red of jacob’s blood. 

crooked kingdom starters.

       daniel leans back in his chair to give jacob a look, popping an eyebrow to accent the sarcasm. “ as opposed to you, the unremitting saint with vows of chastity? ” the comment hurts, but only a little; his pride is too vast to be truly damaged (at least, not without some more effort on jacob’s part, the one man who could perhaps make a sizable dent in the beast of daniel’s ego). they are alone now that the servant has left, so daniel feels no shame to reach over and run his fingers across the back of jacob’s hand, light as goose feathers. soothing a ruffled beast, in daniel’s mind. 

    “ you know where my attention lies, mon cher. ” with you, you awful creature. always with you. “ and i was only being kind to the woman, for christ’s sake. even the help is due my famous courtesy; i’m a guest in your house, after all. ” and i will only ever be that. the knowledge stings appropriately. damn cecelia and all that the wicked bitch stands for, including her marriage, which he refuses to admit is more anything than a three part sham made to hurt him personally. “ but i would only consider the palm to my liking if it resembled you. why, if one of us were a more feminine creature, i’d have snatched your hand up in mine in less than a moment. haven’t i always told you so? how could you doubt me? ” as if daniel doesn’t doubt jacob in turn. the former is a master in hypocrisy. he turns the other’s hand over, tracing his palm as if he could divine truth with that alone. do you love me most? shall i tear off a larger half of you, as the two women in solomon’s story with their baby? it would be so much easier if you did not give her such tender looks and reserved them only for me. but jacob is not a creature under daniel’s thumb, not in any shape of the word. perhaps that’s why he captivates daniel’s attention.

@seavillain​ asked: 22, 30

RP QUESTIONS // ACCEPTING

22. If you could recommend at least five blogs to your followers, who would they be?

Buckle up bitches, it’s time for me to be nice about people!

Firstly, my dragon age squad: @fadedancer​/ @fractalmind​/ @hopewrought​:

1. FADEDANCER

J is one of the bestest beans on the website, man. We’ve known each other ---- oof, must be going on eight years now ---- and we’ve been writing for that long. I also got to go and stay with her which was incredible and I’m very hashtag blessed about it.

She has such a beautiful writing style ---- lyrical without being pretentious ---- and we’ve written in so many fandoms together. In every single one of them she’s brought a new depth to the characters she writes, and she’s so awesome at plots. You always end up with something beautiful.

2. FRACTALMIND

Rio should not read this bc we have a relationship founded almost entirely on being little bitches to each other so this is going to seem strange and unusual. We’ve known each other almost as long as I’ve known J (shout out for introducing us, J) and my god, the chaos we’ve caused.

Rio is a master of weaving plots, and you’re always going to find yourself with something delightful and devious and interesting. They are a master of the poignant and giving you the good ouchies. Want well thought-out, unique and often beautifully poignant backstories? Look no further.

3. HOPEWROUGHT

I have known Lisa for a whopping [ checks discord ] ---- oh wow, two weeks. Truly, time is no longer real. But already I’m love her and her writing and her characterisation, which is thoughtful and three-dimensional and fearless. 

Also, she make them good jokes. 

4. An OC for you all to follow is @bornbreathless​.

Stitch has such an interesting character concept here and is always so open to writing crossovers and aus, finding interesting ways to tie in plot points and keep their sense of character strong in all sorts of situations. Another little angst-master (are you all sensing a theme), they are absolutely somebody you should have in your wheelhouse.

5. Psych, it’s @seavillain​ / @likescything​!! IT’S YOU!!

We’ve known each other for like 1 day but I feel like we’ve really clicked and I’m already so interested and intrigued by your characters, and I’ve fallen in love with your writing. It’s very atmospheric and you convey their thoughts and motivations in such interesting and clever ways, and everyone should fucking follow you thank u and goodnight.

30.  Other than roleplaying, what’s your favorite hobby?

put it on the cv: good at guarding queens who have a bit on the side

LKJDFGKJHLGFS FUCK

sandor clegane, sworn shield:

@seavillain​​ said: 💋 (1920s verse?)

KISSES !! // ACCEPTING 

For almost two months, the relationship between Jacob and Cecelia had to remain not just private, but secret. They had attended four separate parties, two spanning the length of a weekend, where their affair was confined to moments in dark corners, touching hands under the dinner table and, once or twice, a daring dash between bedrooms in the middle of the night. But Cee yearned for more. The secrecy for secrecy sake was exciting but every moment felt as if it was cut short. Leaving his room instead of waiting up beside him, pulling apart as someone entered the room or called out one of their names. A love interrupted.

It would be the case no longer. Cecelia’s Christmas and New Year party was regimental in it’s planning. The guests would arrive on Christmas Eve; a small and close group of her dearest and most interesting friends and then leave on the 2nd of January. There were walks planned; games and dinners. A week before, a twelve-foot tree had been carried in from the grounds and took centre stage in the front hall of the Holmes Estate. But what was surprising, for all Cecelia’s planning, was that somehow, Jacob’s invitation had him arriving two days before everyone else. A mistake in the calligraphy, perhaps. Two whole days in the grand old house, without her brother’s or friends. She hadn’t greeted him at the door and instead allowed the butler to show him to his room and offer refreshments before telling him that Lady Cecelia could be found in the library, looking out a book for each of her guests. 

uhtred really is no thoughts head empty gang